Black Mountain Ops
by Lucy Farinelli
Summary: When Lucy Farinelli discovers that Carrie Grethen is alive in Black Mountain, North Carolina, she makes it her mission to find out what Carrie's been hiding all of these years. When she confronts her, she's surprised at the feelings that resurface. From a former Role Play Game Series; one shot. Complete.


The tree I was perched in was a large oak with heavy branches that offered plenty of concealment. I was dressed in black fatigues, a black sweater, baseball cap and combat boots. Around my neck was a pair of night goggles and strapped on my hip was my Sig Sauer 229. Tucked in my fatigues were a .38 revolver and a survival knife, just in case. As I watched the rickety, run down cabin, I couldn't help but feel a plethora of mixed emotions. I had watched her come and go for three nights now and there was no pattern to her movement; her routine was unpredictable and sporadic. But it was her appearance that jolted my heart. Like the cabin she called home, she was also run down and disheveled, apparently living a very bad lifestyle in the remote woods of Black Mountain. The beat up Chevy Lumina she drove had definitely seen better days and was in desperate need of a paint job and new tires. Occasionally, she drove an old Jeep and I often wondered why she traded vehicles when she left at all hours of the night. My best deduction, from her appearance and her comings and goings, was that she was deeply involved in drugs, possibly a dealer.

The previous day, after she had left on one of her unknown missions, I slithered my way into her cabin. It didn't take much to open the front door and when I walked inside, the surroundings were both bothersome and sad. The cabin was sparse, with a dirty loveseat and a thirteen inch Zenith television set with "rabbit ears." The only other piece of furniture in the living area was a wooden desk with drawers that wouldn't close. On the desk were papers that were filled with numerical equations and I couldn't help but remember how amazing her mind was when I knew her so many years ago. I pushed images from my head as I continued to survey the inside of the cabin, swiftly and quickly. There was a small table in the kitchen with two mismatched wooden chairs and the stove was gas and had pots on the burners. Looking at the kitchen, it was the cleanest area in the cabin and when I opened the pantry, I was surprised to see food. Miscellaneous cereal boxes and protein bars lined the shelves, along with power protein drinks and vitamins. This took me by surprise, considering the way she looked now. How could she let herself go so bad but still be on a vitamin regimen? I exited the kitchen and walked into the bedroom, a tiny room big enough for a queen size mattress on the floor. Her sheets were clean and, again, this surprised me. I looked quickly in the bathroom, checked the medicine cabinet and saw nothing that struck me as odd. She still used Crest toothpaste and Suave shampoo. She had no computer, which was disappointing but not surprising, and it seemed her only connection to the world outside was the old television. I found no evidence of drugs, no evidence that she was a cooker. However, just because she had nothing here, didn't mean she wasn't dealing or cooking elsewhere. I would find out. Using my IPhone, I took photos of the cabin for future reference and exited quickly, leaving everything exactly the same as it was when she left. I couldn't fuck up now. This was possibly the most important mission of my life.

As I watched the cabin from high up in the big Oak, I could see her inside. There was just enough of the curtain open that I had a clear visual of her at the writing desk. Her back was to me, but I could make out her shaved head, her emaciated figure and the black tank top she was wearing. I imagined her writing out more numerical equations, but I didn't know what they were for. Drugs, I thought to myself again. It has to be all about drugs. For an instant, she turned her head and looked out the window. I wondered if she could feel me watching her and from her body language, she seemed a little on edge. When she looked out, it was as if her piercing stare grabbed my heart. She looked right at me and I felt my shoulders tense up. She looked the same, but so different. Everything I remembered about her was still so beautiful, but she was so disheveled that it made me cringe. I could see sores on her face, her dark hair shaved with pieces of longer hair strewn about. She was incredibly thin, her once muscular arms now small and fragile. She had several earrings in her right ear. When she stood up to walk to the kitchen, I could see she was wearing jeans and was barefoot. I remembered she wore a size eight shoe.

She walked back into the living room carrying a coffee cup. I could see steam rising and I wondered if she was drinking coffee or tea. She used to love hot green tea with a touch of mint, but I didn't recall seeing tea in the cabin yesterday. It must be coffee, I think to myself, and I'm not quite sure why it even matters. She sits back down at her desk, keeping her head low and writing, and I know that tonight is the night. Tonight I will confront the woman that I loved and thought I had killed. Tonight, I will find out the truth.

I approached the cabin with my weapon drawn, heart rate steady and my mission focused. I could hear nothing on the other side of the door. I let my breath out slowly, raised my left leg, and kicked the flimsy door to its hinges. Carrie was instantly in front of me, her own weapon pointed directly at me when our eyes locked for a long, intense moment.

"Drop the fucking gun!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, but she did not move. She held her weapon as steady as I held my own. "I said drop the fucking gun!" I heard myself scream, but it didn't sound like me and the moment didn't feel real. _Was this really happening?_

"Lucy!" She wavered, her eyes darting back and forth between mine and the gun. "What the fuck?" She almost whispered, faltering, but then she went back into survival mode. "Lower your weapon!" She held her voice strong.

"There is no fucking way I'm putting this gun down! I fucking killed you! What the fuck is going on? You're dead!" The adrenaline rushed through me like fire as I remembered that day I shot her out of the sky. A plethora of memories flood through my mind, but I force myself to focus on the present. I'm here to find out the truth. "Carrie! Don't make me shoot you! Drop your fucking gun!"

And to my surprise and amazement, she cautiously lowered her weapon to her side. She dropped the clip onto the ground and the clattering sound of metal versus hardwood filled the cabin. Then there was a heavy silence as our eyes continued to hold each other's, both of us refusing to look away. She surprised me by putting her gun on the desk and slowly raising her hands, surrendering. She looked defeated.

"What the fuck!?" I continued to scream, although I could feel she was not a threat to me. I found myself shaking from emotions, adrenaline, but I did my best not to let it show. "What is going on? How are you here? How are you alive?! I killed you?!" I heard myself yell again, but this time it was more of a question.

Carrie continued to look at me, taking in every inch of me, but still very much on guard because of the gun I was still pointing at her. "If you put your gun down I can explain everything. Or, if you'd rather, you can keep pointing it at me and I can still explain everything. Either way, you'll get your answers." She said with a remarkable calm and I started to suspect she knew I might be coming.

Slowly, watchfully, I moved my weapon to my side and put it in its holster. Carrie wasn't a threat, she didn't want me dead. If she did, she had the opportunity to kill me and she didn't take it. I tried to keep my nerves intact, to stay with my training, but seeing her before me brought back so many intense emotions and I wondered if she could see through me. _What is she feeling right now?_

"I'm going to do something, okay? I'm going to walk to my bedroom and get something from my safe."

"I was in this cabin yesterday, you don't have a fucking safe!"

"You didn't look in all the right places." She said, not at all surprised by my remark, as she turned to walk away and headed towards the tiny bedroom. I waited, standing in the living room, as I heard her moving the bed. I heard the squeaking of the hardwood floor. She was banging around for a few minutes and when she came back, she was carrying a wallet. Without warning, she tossed the wallet at me and I caught it. When I opened it, my eyes could barely comprehend what I was looking at. It was Carrie's FBI credentials- her CURRENT credentials- and I looked up at her in disbelief.

"This is a fucking lie."

"Is it?" She asked. "Look close. You remember what the badge looks like. You know it's legit. Look at the dates."

"There's no fucking way you're still an agent!"

"I've been undercover since Gault." She said with no emotion. "I've been under for a long time, Lucy." She said quietly and she sounded exasperated.

"I don't…I can't…I can't fucking believe this!" I said, throwing the wallet down on the table next to me.

"I can prove it." She said and she took out a cell phone and dialed a number. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry to bother you at this late hour. I know." She was silent as someone talked on the other end. "Farinelli is here. Right. No, I have no idea how she found me either, but I…I blew my cover and told her the truth but she doesn't believe me. Can you confirm my current assignment? Thank you, sir." She handed me the telephone and I didn't speak.

"Lucy?" A familiar voice came across the line. "Lucy, it's Frank Lord."

I sat at one of the mismatched chairs as Carrie set a cup of coffee in front of me. Sitting down across from me at the table, there was so much to say, yet the silence was deafening. I rested my head in my hands for a moment then straightened myself, taking a sip of coffee. I looked at my watch. It was almost three in the morning.

"This is all just so crazy." I said, looking at Carrie as she told me her story. "I can't believe you've been undercover all these years." _I can't believe you never tried to find me._

"The Feds did a good job, until now. Which leads me to the question. How did you find me? And why were you looking?" Her voice was soft and I heard it catch on a wave of emotion. _Was I just imagining that?_

I looked down at the table then back in her dark eyes. They were drawing me in, the way that they did so many years ago. The way they've held me throughout the years, although nobody knew of this. Carrie was my forbidden love, my forbidden secret. I could never tell anyone the truth.

"Rijel Grant Mojave." I said looking at her and I saw the memory flood through her mind. "That's how I found you. I got a hit four nights again on a search engine I created. I traced you here. It wasn't hard once I had the name. I can't believe I didn't think of it before."

"I can't believe you remember."

"Of course I remember. I remember a lot of things."

The intensity between us was mounting, like water coming to a slight boil, then cooling off. We both felt it and when we did, we would make sure that it didn't go anywhere. _What if I want it to go somewhere?_

"You told me that rainy night, so many years ago, that if you ever went undercover as a drug dealer that's the name you would use. And then I got the hit. You were busted in a drug deal here. Some bullshit like that. Obviously, a cover."

"Obviously." She said as she silently played with her fingers, which were smooth and long. I watched her hands and remembered the way they used to touch me. I thought about our last night together and how she told me that one day, everything would make sense. I had memorized her hands. Seeing them again was becoming too much. It felt like the room was starting to sink in, my heart was beating faster, my palms a blistery sweat. She caught me watching her and suddenly became self conscious of the way the she looked. "I know, I look hideous. I have to play the part." She said with a slight smile. "Self inflicted wounds." She said indicating the sores on her face.

"It looks painful." I said and, without thinking, I reached across the table and touched her face. The impact of skin jolted through me like electricity and I was surprised when she took my hand into hers. _She does feel something. It's not just me._

"Lucy." She said so quietly I could barely hear her. She raised my hand to cup her face and closed her eyes. "I know what you had to go through. What I put you through. You have to understand. I didn't have a choice. It was the job. I had to leave you the way that I did. I told you one day it would make sense. I hope it makes some sense now."

I was so overridden with emotion that I was trembling as I felt her tears roll over my hand. They dropped on the table as I quickly stood up and reached for her, desperately needing to feel her close, to know she was really alive. We stood in her kitchen holding onto each other so tightly that I could barely breathe. I was afraid to let her go. When we finally stepped apart, she looked down at me with tears in her eyes as she wiped away my own. Her fingers slowly moved down to my mouth, tracing the outline of my lips.

She moved quickly around, and my back was butting up against the counter with gentle force. Her lips found my neck as she pressed herself against me and I succumbed to her touch. I pulled her closer to me as my hands slid beneath the black tank top she wore, stroking her back. When our lips finally met, we were no longer gentle with each other, but desperate for more. So many years had passed, but in the moment, we fell right back in sync with each other. Carrie finally pulled away from me, her eyes penetrating my face with such depth and desire.

"Your clothes have got to go." She said looking down at my boots, my BDU's and my black sweater. The baseball hat had been tossed long ago. Her hands moved to my short auburn hair as she traced the outline of my ear then kissed it softly. "Don't get me wrong, you're hot as hell when you're all Secret Agent about it, but right now you must come with me," she said taking my hand and leading me to her room. We couldn't get there fast enough and when we did, she pulled my sweater off over my head and went for the buttons on my pants. Our kisses were fueled with pent up passion as I pulled off her tank top and pushed her back on the bed. My lips explored every familiar inch of her body and there was nothing I could do to be close enough to her, nothing I could say that could equate to the feelings that overflowed like hot lava. There were no words that night, just pure emotion and adrenaline, refueling a fire that had never died. A fire that had been smoldering for years…..

It was 10:30 when I woke up, my stomach growling and in need of food. Putting on a tank top and underwear, I made my way to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. As I scrounged through the kitchen cabinets for food, I had a dream of making us pancakes. However, the only thing I could find that would qualify as breakfast were protein bars. I ate two. As the aroma of coffee filled the cabin, I found myself smiling and soaking in pure bliss. However, the moment didn't last long. Suddenly, Carrie appeared in the kitchen, looking disheveled and panicked, holding two bags of cocaine in her hand.

"Lucy, you have to go!" She said with concerned urgency. "I fucking overslept. They're going to be here in twenty minutes for a deal. You've got to get out of here!"

"Fuck!" I said taking my coffee with me to the bedroom as I threw on my clothes and put my baseball cap back on. "Are you going to be okay? I can stay and…"

"There's no time. Seriously. You've got to move. Now!" She said as she pushed me from the bedroom to the front door. "I can't take a chance that someone might see you here. Fuck. I'm so stupid. I forgot they were coming."

"You were a little distracted." I said, trying to lighten her mood.

She managed a smile. "Let me get these crack heads in and out of here. No idea how long it will take, but it's a pretty big buy. They might want to hang around."

I felt myself worrying about her already, I felt myself wanting to protect her. I had to remind myself that this was a role she's been playing for years. She knows what she's doing. And she's good.

"Be careful." I said putting my gun on my hip, my eyes scanning the cabin to make sure I didn't forget anything. "Call me later, when you can?" I asked with hopeful eyes.

"As soon as I can." She said as she kissed me. "As soon as it's safe."

Taking one last glace at her, I ran out the front door. The morning sun was bright as I took in my surroundings. I made my way back into the woods and began the short hike back to my car.

"Oh Aunt Kay," I thought to myself. "How am I ever going to explain this to you?"

END


End file.
